Kitty was beginning to think that it might be as good for her to say something like that, so that Rosy might be got to understand how things were, and that her mother was better away from the old home.
“Lying in the bed she was,” said Kitty, “and not able to sit up or move herself; and the fire gone black out ... and no little refreshment within her reach, only a bucket of cold water, that she could be taking little sups out of, till Moll would be back at dark. But still, she was contented enough, and said it was what Moll was real good to her; and would share with her whatever little things she’d have gathered up through the neighbours on her rounds; a grain of tea or a bit of butter or maybe a cut of bacon; whatever it might be she’d....”
“She’ll not need to be depending out of Moll and her old pucks of bags any longer!” said Rosy, a bit proud in herself.
The Raffertys were a most respectable family always. Poor they might be, and were, too; but they never said anything about that, or would make a poor mouth, only strive to put the best foot foremost among the neighbours. “And I’ll not forget it,” Rosy went on, “to poor Moll, nor let her be the worse of any little attention or kindness that she showed to me mother, all this time!”
God help her! and only He knew what poor Rosy had in her mind then, or what way she thought she would have of rewarding Moll! But Rosy never thought much. If she did, it wouldn’t have been the big surprise to her that it was, to hear all Kitty had to tell her, in the end, about the poor old mother.
Rosy stood up, and was making to go out, when Kitty said, “Arrah, won’t you wait awhile with me?”
“It’s too long I’ve been already, delaying!”
“But sure, listen...!” and then Kitty stopped.
“Well?” said Rosy, half impatient.
“She’s ... she’s not there...!”